Arthur Kirkland and The Boy Who Lived: Year 1
by Sarpndo
Summary: As a rule, England didn't hate his citizens. They might annoy him at times, frustrate him, drive him up a wall, but they were still his. In his history, there had only been a few exceptions. And now, there were five. So when Harry got his first letter to Hogwarts, England resolved to be there for him. England goes to Hogwarts! (only one I'm doing, unfortunately)
1. Chapter 1

**New Story! YAY! And a Harry Potter one to boot. Now, disclaimer, I own nothing, including the plot, except where it diverges from canon Harry Potter.**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**I own the writing.**

* * *

As a rule, England didn't hate his citizens. They might annoy him at times, frustrate him, drive him up a wall, but they were still his. In his history, there had only been a few exceptions. And now, there were five.

Voldemort, the mad, power-hungry Tom Riddle. The orphan boy had had potential, but his crazed thoughts of evil were, though a minority, positively maddening and England hated him. He hated what he had done and what he was. England didn't buy the story about his death, he knew Voldemort was still kicking. He could feel the small shreds of Voldemort's humanity slinking around in the shadows.

Then there was Severus Snape. He wasn't evil, per se, but he was bitter and full of malice. England might have had his moments of evil, but he hated hypocrites and fence-sitters. And Snape was both. It drove England up the wall, so he usually tried to ignore the man's very existence.

Dolores Umbridge, undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. He had had the displeasure of meeting the disgusting woman more than once on his visits to the Ministry, and he despised her. She was foul and cruel, and gave Voldemort a run for his money.

Then there was Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. England didn't really_ hate_ him, necessarily, he was just an idiotic, yellow-bellied ostrich who wouldn't recognize danger if it broke his nose. England couldn't understand how a man like Fudge was a wizard, let alone the Minister of Magic.

And then there was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. The man was old, and fancied himself wise and above reproach, but the man was blind and cruel. His wisdom was simply arrogance and his power came from climbing over others. He had not been so different for Tom Riddle, but he claimed to do it for "the greater good" which was almost worse.

So, England had been especially irritable because, even though the coughing up blood had stopped ten years ago, when the Potters died, he was stuck with five bloody idiots.

On the other hand, Harry Potter was a delight. While he was stuck with the distasteful Dursleys (though, England had to admit, they were pretty normal, for his citizens), he remained surprisingly unprejudiced and kindhearted, though he had a sarcastic streak that made England beam.

So when Harry got his first letter to Hogwarts, England resolved to be there for him, especially since he knew that Dumbledore would be there in name only.

* * *

His first order of business was fabricating his identity in the Ministry. It wouldn't be terribly difficult, given how dense Fudge was, but it was necessary. Dumbledore was no fool, and if England only existed in classified files, he would get suspicious. He quickly donned his old (and worn) wizard robes to avoid strange stares and grabbed a handful of Flood powder out of the jar on his mantle. He stepped into his too-small fireplace and threw the powder into the ashes, declaring "Ministry of Magic!"

A flash of green smoke later and he was stepping into the Ministry's main hall, polished dark wood under his feet, and green-teal tiles covering the ceiling. He scowled as he noticed the fountain in the middle. Sure, he had had seen it before, but the blatant wizard supremacy propaganda it represented never failed to irritate him.

He marched through the crowds of wizards, all of them parting to let him through. Not consciously, of course, but the respect they gave him was an inherent part of being his citizens. He found an elevator and took it down to the second level where they kept all their records, He hoped he would be ignored by the Aurors, he would hate to have to incapacitate them.

He easily broke into their records room and marched into its depths, finding the deepest part of the classified section. At the bottom of the farthest stack he found his file, exactly where it should be.

He had enchanted it long ago to only be visible to those who had direct permission from him, and they forgot everything the moment they looked away from the paper. He duplicated the folder, then renewed the enchantments. He returned the original to its spot, then carried the duplicate to the front area, changing the information to suit his needs.

_Name: Arthur Kirkland _

_Birthdate: April 23_*_, 1968_

_Age: 23 (as of 1991)_

_FAMILY_

_Ancestry: Muggleborn (member of the Muggle Noble Kirkland Family) _

_Mother: Elisabeth Kirkland (dead)_

_Father: Arthur Kirkland (dead) _

_Older Brothers_†_: Allistor Kirkland (1958-present), heir and manager of Kirkland estate; __Dylan and Kirkland (twins, 1961-present); __Kale Kirkland (1965-present)_

_Foster Children: Alfred F. Jones (1972-present), American; __Matthew Williams (1972-present), Canadian._

_Location of childhood home: Kirkland estate in Somerset_‡

_Location of current home: London apartment (Muggle area)_

_Relationships: None_

_APPEARANCE _

_Eye color: green_

_Hair color: blonde _

_Other characteristics: thick, black eyebrows_

_SCHOOLING_

_School: Hogwarts_

_First year: 1979_

_House: Slytherin_§

_School awards, etc.: Head Boy, Prefect, Os in OWLS and NEWTS_

_Career: Upon graduation joined Aurors, left after 2 years for health reasons_

_Secretary in the Department of International Magical Cooperation__‖_

_OTHER INFORMATION_

_Wand: 11 inches, Pine, Banshee hair, rigid_Δ

_Patronus: Lion_ΔΔ

_Enjoys: Embroidery, craftsmanship, literature, rock music_

_Skills:_

_Transfiguration_

_Can cast spells without a wand and wordlessly_

_Can send messages with his Patronus_

_Speaks many languages – human and otherwise_

He put the folders among the Ks and departed, humming lightly. He left the ministry without incident and returned home. He immediately wrote a letter to Dumbledore.

_To Albus Dumbledore_

_If I remember correctly, Professor Binns is still teaching History of Magic. If I could perhaps suggest a change in staffing, I would like to volunteer to replace him._

_My credentials are excellent, as are my references. I only recently left Hogwarts myself, but I feel I would be an excellent candidate._

_I am also interested in the well-being of a certain boy._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Kirkland_

He sent it with his horned owl, Excalibur, and leaned back. His response came the next day.

_To Arthur Kirkland_

_I am pleased to hear from you. While I cannot seem to remember you, I must admit that your credentials and references are impeccable, as you said, and we do share a common interest. I'm sure Professor Binns would not mind stepping down._

_I expect you to be present on September 1__st__ at the Welcome Feast. If you could send me a list of the book(s) you require, that would be most helpful._

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

He frowned, then sighed and quickly sent a reply.

_To Albus Dumbledore_

_The book currently in use, _A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot, will be sufficient._

_Arthur Kirkland_

He received another letter that evening.

_To Arthur Kirkland_

_Very good, thank you. I look forward to welcoming you back to Hogwarts._

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

England sighed. He got up and scanned his bookshelves. He finally found the book and pulled it down. He had gotten a copy from the dear old woman, as he had helped her write it. He wasn't mentioned in it, but he had helped, quite a bit.

He sat down and opened it up, beginning to read, though he knew everything in it.

He found it rather dry, and also found that his copy had several chapters that were, more than likely, not ministry approved. He grinned.

He finished reading and divided the chapters into sections. To his dismay, he found that the book fit comfortably into only four sections: Magic's Beginnings, Early Magical Communities across the world, Major Religions and Magic, and British Magical History.** He also pulled down his copy of _Hogwarts, A History_,†† for teaching his first years. For the sixth and seventh years, he decided to address the history of minorities like half-bloods and other sentient creatures. His sixth and seventh years would also need _Modern Magical History._‡‡ He figured the older students could get the supplementary books later. Next year, though, he'd get them on the list. He nodded in satisfaction. He would more than likely have to play catch-up with the older students, but, if he had his way, the first years would be properly educated for the next seven years.

Next came the avoidance of his national duties for the next seven years. He put an enchantment on his desk and his mailbox that would, in a sense, forward all of his paperwork and mail to his location in Hogwarts. He would finish the enchantment when he got there, as it required some tampering with the wards there. Not that it would be hard. He did help put them in place.

He then sighed. His phone might cause problems, but, he'd get there when he got there. Hopefully his ability to stay on top of paperwork would stop people from worrying. He then sent an email to his Prime Minister, informing him that he would be working from home for a while, then decided that he'd deal with everything else when they came up.

He also realized that he needed to go to Diagon Alley. His robes were worn and ancient, and he needed some new parchment and quills. He sighed and resolved to do that in a couple of days, after the initial post-letter madness had worn off. He shook his head and began to work on a pile of paperwork. He might be a Hogwarts professor now, but he was still a nation.

* * *

The morning of July 31st, England awoke at midnight to the Dursley's terror, Hagrid's delight, and Harry Potter's confusion and excitement. Due to Harry's importance, England had tuned into his specific thoughts, and, as a result, anyone near him. Unfortunately, it also made Voldemort's thoughts more clear, and England had the terrible feeling that young Harry Potter had become a Horcrux that fateful night ten years ago.

He finally shrugged and returned to sleep. He woke up to the sun and donned his last decent-looking robe (he burned the other ones) and Floo'd to Diagon Alley. He stepped out onto the bustling, sun-lit street and smiled in contentment. He did like wizards, with their pointy hats and old-fashioned robes.

And then, he saw him, or, saw his guardian. Hagrid tromped along the alley, followed by a far-too-skinny, awed Harry Potter.

England's heart warmed. He approached the pair and stopped in front of the gangly lad. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter. I just wanted to say Welcome Back."

The boy started and stared up at him. It was clear he still wasn't used to being famous. England smiled and extended a hand. "Arthur Kirkland," he supplied.

Harry slowly took the proffered hand. England squeezed it gently, looking deep into the boy's green eyes (so much like Lily's), thanking him silently, but sincerely, as the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland.

Harry's eyes widened in wonder and he smiled. "Thanks, Mr. Kirkland."

England smiled and walked away. Harry looked up at Hagrid. "Who was that, Hagrid?"

"Well, blimey, Harry. I don't know."

"He was different from the other people who do that," Harry said thoughtfully.

Hagrid huffed and steered his charge toward their next stop.

* * *

England exited Gringotts with a heavy wallet and light heart. Everything was going splendidly. He was especially grateful that the goblins knew to keep their mouths shut about the...ancient nature of his vault. He bought several quills and several reams of parchment before buying several simple, but high quality robes. He returned home content, though his good mood faded when he realized that he still had more paperwork today.

For the next month, that was all he did.

* * *

**_So, hello, here's a story for you. Hope you liked it so far. Please review, I love reviews. Also, you should be grateful. The amount of freaking research I put into this one chapter ALONE is more than I sometimes put into five page papers, so...of course, I had a lot of stuff to look through, too. You will find that not all of my information comes from Pottermore, though I tried to use that as the first resource available, because JKR is the coolest, and the master of all things Harry Potter._**

**_Also, a warning, I am a history major with strong feelings about history and how it should be taught...so...this is going to be real, guys, really real._**

**_Once again, please review, let me know what you think, etc._**

_*found on sites_ ._ google site /_ _axispowershetaria_ _/ birthdays - 1_

†All these names are my own.

_‡Based on the fact that this is one suggested location for Camelot (see Wikipedia page on Camelot)_

§Let's be honest, you really think England would be anything but Slytherin?

_‖Real thing (found information on it from the hp-lexicon - ministry)_

ΔThe amount of freaking research I put into this. Pine (according to Pottermore) wands usually choose "an independent, individual master who may be perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious. Pine wands enjoy being used creatively, and unlike some others, will adapt unprotestingly to new methods and spells. Many wandmakers insist that pine wands are able to detect, and perform best for, owners who are destined for long lives...The pine wand is one of those that is most sensitive to non-verbal magic."

So... "independent, individual...perceived as a loner, intriguing and perhaps mysterious" sounds a bit like our dear Arthur, doesn't it. Also, they "enjoy being used creatively", and, knowing Arthur, he has more than likely experimented quite a lot. He is _immortal_, can't get more long-lived that that. And, I think he would be quite skilled at non-verbal spells.

Then, the Banshee hair (this research took way too long) is one the hardest wand cores obtain for wandcrafting, due to the Banshee's deadly scream (believed to be deadly, more just unfortunately prophetic - thank you theSardonyx for correcting that). They are incapable of using healing magic and make for deadly dueling wands. (see hogwartsishere library _Coleman's Book of Wands_)

The length is sort of arbitrary (but sort of average based on his height and the size of his personality (see Pottermore)) and I see England as being quite stubborn, plus pine is described as a "straight-grained" wood.

_ΔΔEngland has a long history with lions being a representative symbol (think Aslan, Narnia, C.S. Lewis) and I just think it fits. It also represents strength and power and authority and kingship and family. (universeofsymbolism and shamanicjourney)_

**As I do not have access to the _real_ book, I used (and will be using) this one: hogwartsishere library _A History of Magic_

_††As I do not have access to the _real_ book, I will be using this one: hogwartishere library _A History of Hogwarts

‡‡As I, again, do not have access to the _real_ book, I will be using this one: hogwartsishere library _The Modern Historical Review_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, my readers! Next chapter of the story I've decided to call: Arthur Kirkland and the Terrible Ideas Dumbledore Has - I mean, really, WHY WOULD YOU KEEP THAT STUPID ROCK IN HOGWARTS WITH THE BOY YOU'RE TRYING TO PROTECT! IT'S LIKE YOU'RE NOT EVEN TRYING!**

**To my reviewers: Thank you! To my followers/favoriters, please review! I want to hear what you think.**

**To my guest reviewers: Thank you for your reviews.**

_Guest:_ Thank you for your kind and patient review. :) Here's another one for you!

_LizzieLove666:_ Thank you for your review, and, to answer 1) maybe, though I've never been fond of them myself; 2) lol, potentially, though they won't be a focus; 3) I hope not. Get attached, it will help me continue it *wink*

**Anyway, DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**Writing belongs to who it does (J.K. Rowling, and me)**

* * *

September 1st found England packed and taking the tube to King's Cross Station. He ignored the strange stares he received – wearing his archaic robes and carrying Excalibur earned him some amazed looks – as he dismounted and dragged along his trunks and Excalibur's cage. He calmly approached the column between 9 and 10 and stepped through.

He boarded the train and found an empty compartment near the end of the train. He put his trunks above on the luggage rack and sat down, setting Excalibur – now in his cage – on the seat next to him. Setting his briefcase on his lap, he opened it and continued working on some last minute paperwork the Prime Minister had sent him. The more he did now, the more he could focus on being a Hogwarts professor.

He heard the door slide open. England looked up to see Harry Potter himself. England smiled brightly. "Harry! Come in and sit, lad. What a delight to see you again."

Harry hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, dragging his trunk behind him.

"Oh, let me help." England got to his feet and helped Harry put his trunk up on the other rack. England sat back down and Harry sat beside him, at England's insistence.

"You didn't say you were going to Hogwarts too, Mr. Kirkland."

England smiled. "Ah, yes. Returning actually. I am to be your Professor for History of Magic."

Harry made a face.

England chuckled. "Does sound a bit dull, doesn't it. Well, I guarantee that my class will be loads better than previous professors. My professor was a ghost, and an absolute bore."

Just then, the compartment door slid open. A young redhead – Ronald Weasley, England realized – stepped in. "Mind if I join you? Everywhere else is full." He glanced at England, but was mostly talking to Harry.

Harry shook his head, hair shifting and he brushed his bangs away. Ronald noticed the boy's peculiar scar and quickly looked out the window. England smiled.

"Hey, Ron."

Everyone looked up to see two redheads – the twins, Fred and George, England thought with a smile.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Hey," said the other twin, George, England thought, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied. The twins gaped at him for a moment before shrugging. "Alright, then. See you later."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

Ron turned to England. "Who are you?"

"I am Arthur Kirkland, the new professor for History of Magic. I met Harry, here, while doing some shopping at Diagon Alley."

Ron nodded and shrugged, then turned back to Harry. The two boys fell to talking and England was more than happy to sit back and let them do it. Harry needed friends, and the Weasley boy was a good lad. Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. England also stood and joined Harry out in the corridor. Harry bought some of everything, to England's amusement, and England bought a couple of pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs. Ron stared as Harry brought it all back into the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on –"

England took a bite out of one of his pasties as he listened to the boys talking. He watched with amusement as Ron spluttered at Harry's ignorance.

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half- moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa – thanks."

Harry turned over his card and read:

"Albus Dumbledore. Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts. "Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times,"

England choked on his pasty, trying to disguise his laugh of derision. Neither boy noticed and Harry continued reading. "Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

England chuckled at Harry's look of shock.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her... do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped.

"Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. He finally tore his eyes away from the druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor – you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a booger- flavored one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh – see? Sprouts."

"Might I have one," England asked. He always liked the sense of adventure he got when eating those. Harry offered him the bag and he took one out, delighted to find that it was a caramel one. They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. Though England had to stop after he got a chili one that fried his taste buds.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and a round-faced boy came in. England recognized the boy as the son of the noble Longbottoms, Neville. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap. England glanced at the rat and frowned. That was no rat. He glared at the animagus, Peter Pettigrew. He'd have to watch him carefully.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look..."

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. England winced at the state of it. It was a hand-me-down from a hand-me-down from a hand-me-down, a time-bomb waiting to kill someone.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway..."

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes. England smiled at her, though she didn't notice. Hermione Granger, a bright girl and a credit to her country.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er – all right."

He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." England stifled a laugh. Ron waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast and nobody noticed England beaming at her.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell – George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"That's what brothers are for," England said drily.

Ron barked a laugh.

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

England let them continue talking and turned back to his paperwork until he heard Ron say, "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles – someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry stared and England leaned in.

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

England _knew_ Tom Riddle was behind it, and he was very concerned about what the thief had been seeking, whatever it might be.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er – I don't know any," Harry confessed.

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world –" And he was off, and England tuned him out. He knew how to play and he had paperwork to do. He was interrupted when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and England tried not to scowl. Draco Malfoy, a Crabbe boy, and a Goyle boy. Lucius's brat was looking at Harry with quite a lot of interest.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both Crabbe and Goyle were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

England's scowl deepened. He was as bad as his father, and worse, since he lacked the tact and subtlety his father had.

Malfoy turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. England beamed with pride.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up. England scowled, but made no move to help or stop the confrontation. He wanted to see what would happen, professor or not.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, rather bravely, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron – Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle – Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling. England snickered. When Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three boys disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No – I don't believe it – he's gone back to sleep –"

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley, which England was both surprised and intrigued by.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

England scowled as he silently agreed with Ron. They turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right – I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. England glanced out the window as well. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky and realized that he was now on Scotland's turf. Though still his by treaty, the connection was just a little weaker.

The train did seem to be slowing down. So Harry and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry and Ron both looked nervous and England gave them a reassuring smile. The boys crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

England bid the boys farewell and headed over to the thestral carriages. He wasn't sure how Dumbledore had intended him to get there, but he decided he would rather ride with the beautifully misunderstood horses than in rickety boats across the dark lake. He climbed into an empty carriage and sat back, watching as the great castle grew ever closer.

* * *

_**Hello, well, normally I don't update this fast, but, since I had at least half of it written already (read: JKR is awesome), I didn't have to do as much work. It will get longer and harder as England won't always be doing the same thing in the same places as our dear Mr. Potter. So, I hope you enjoy. I figure that, if it's already written well, why rewrite it? (Hopefully I won't get arrested or something...) I also apologize for the length, bit longer than I intended, but, hey, I'm just taking a chapter out of JKR's book (literally).**_

_**See you next time. Please review! I love reviews. :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Look! Another chapter! That's because these are the easy ones. I don't have to really do a lot of writing when JKR has already done it! Love that woman. Anyway, thank you to all who reviewed, again, and I appreciate your wonderful comments**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**Writing belongs to who it does (J.K. Rowling, and me)**

* * *

England reached the castle and dismounted, entering the great castle with some amount of apprehension. When he had last been there, the four founders had only just built it, and, honestly, it had grown and changed significantly since then. He entered the Great Hall and from the side entrance and joined the staff table. Dumbledore noticed him and smiled. "You must be Arthur Kirkland."

"Yes."

Dumbledore nodded. "Welcome. I hope the welcome feast is better than you remember."

England smiled gratefully. "I'm sure it will be."

The great doors at the end of the hall swung open as McGonagall left to greet the first years. A few moments later, the resident ghosts drifted in, taking up their usual positions throughout the hall. A bit later, McGonagall returned, leading the first years across the flagged stone floor. England smiled when he saw Harry, though he knew every one of the children's names already. That would certainly aid in his teaching.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, and England waited patiently. He remembered when the hat was just a hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffis are true And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. England noticed Harry looking a bit queasy and smiled. The lad would be quite alright. He was a Gryffindor for sure.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. England glanced at his old house and realized that Salazar's dreams of a "pure" house had been fulfilled, but in ancestry only. They were all rather foul-looking and dislikeable, not at all noble or "pure".

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

England tried to catch Harry's eye. He could see the boy was positively terrified.

When Neville Longbottom was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" "Nott" "Parkinson" then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" then "Perks, Sally-Anne" and then, at last: "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The hat dropped over his eyes and everyone held their breath. England relaxed, knowing what was going on. The sliver of Harry that England was pretty sure was Tom Riddle was making things a bit difficult.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. He was getting the loudest cheer yet and England smiled at the boy's obvious relief. Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Harry sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff he'd seen earlier. The ghost patted his arm.

Harry caught Hagrid's eye, who gave him the thumbs up. Harry grinned back. England also managd to catch the boy's eye and smiled warmly. Harry smiled back.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. A second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to him.

"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Harry as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. England scowled at the man's back.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. Nobody noticed England's irritable scowl. His frustration was son forgotten, however, as the dishes in front of him were now piled with food.

England ate voraciously while watching Harry interact with his Housemates and the ghost. He smiled. He was glad Harry was fitting in so well, even if he was a celebrity

He noticed Harry look up at the High Table again. England followed his eyes. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, England scowled – and Tom Riddle he realized in frustration – in his absurd turban, was talking to a Severus Snape.

England felt it as Harry did.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.

England looked concernedly at the boy. He seemed to be fine now, but he knew it wasn't over. From the looks Harry kept giving Snape, though, he knew Harry had the wrong idea. Well, Snape didn't like the boy, no reason for Harry to like Snape, foul snake that he was.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you:

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

England scowled. What fool business was Dumbledore involved in now. And telling students about places they _weren't_ supposed to go was a good way to get a foolish student killed. He raised an eyebrow at Harry's laughter.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. England buried his head in his arms as the other teachers tried to remain smiling. He had made up this song while going drinking with the four founders. He couldn't believe they had decided to make it their school song.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. England tried not to snicker. He rather enjoyed their rendition. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. England watched him go then stood as the rest of the teachers began leaving.

"Headmaster, excuse me."

Dumbledore turned and smiled at him. "Ah, yes, Mr. Kirkland. You must be wondering where your office and lodgings will be. Not to worry, I shall take you there myself." He stood and England followed him out of the Great Hall. They took the staircases up to the fourth floor, down a couple of hallways, and to a door. "This used to be Binns office, but since he has retired, it is yours now."

England nodded his thanks and stepped inside. The office had a fireplace. It also had two closets, the teacher's desk and a table. Behind a curtain was a bed. Though small, it was sufficient. England bid Dumbledore farewell and shut the door, locking it by hand and then casting several unspoken and undetectable wards before beginning the business of tampering with the wards around Hogwarts.

The wards had not changed since their creation a thousand years ago*. He made a noise of disappointment as he easily undid the wards and set up the enchantment on his desk – the one to keep him connected to his boss and the world of nations – and then redid the wards, better and more complex. He had to keep Harry Potter and the other children safe, even if Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that they were, indeed, _actually children_.

Satisfied with his work, he did a quick mental check on Harry Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Tom Riddle. Seeing nothing amiss, he changed out of his robes and went to bed.

* * *

**_Welp, there you go. Chapter 3. Who knows how long this is going to go. We just finished Chapter 7 of JKR's book. But, from now on, there is going to be much less overlap since England is not going to follow Mr. Potter around._**

**_The location of Professor Binns' office (and therefore England's office) is based on the Hogwarts Castle page on the Harry Potter Wikia page, so, there you go. It's on the fourth floor, apparently, and so is the History of Magic classroom. Where it is on the fourth floor, well, I don't think anybody really knows. J.K. Rowling said herself, _"I haven't drawn [a floorplan of Hogwarts], because it would be difficult for the most skilled architect to draw, owing to the fact that the staircases and the rooms keep moving. However, I have a very vivid mental image of what it looks like."_ So, pardon my inability to give you a specific location for his office._**

**_*_**Also, a note. Sources I can find (see A History of Magic, Chapter 21, hogwartsishere Library) suggest that Hogwarts was likely built around 990AD. So, 990AD to 1991 (which is when Harry first goes to school, canonically) is 1000 years. Nifty.

_**Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please review, and I LOVE constructive criticism too, so, any suggestions are very welcome.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**HELLO! I'm cranking this out (at the expense of my college coursework...but...who cares. I love my readers...)**

**ANYWAY, hope you enjoy. Thank you to ALL my reviewers, followers, and favoriters. Love you all! And to the silent readers who have yet to do anything, I love you too. Thank you for reading.**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**I own the writing and any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.**

* * *

England woke up in an unfamiliar bed. He sat up quickly and then remembered that he was in his new office at Hogwarts. He relaxed. He swung his legs off the bed and stood up, pulling aside the curtain. As expected, there was a fresh pile of paperwork. If his enchantment had worked correctly, his finished paperwork, left on the desk, was now collected. His spell had, hopefully, turned his desks and mailbox into a sort of Vanishing Cabinet. As he didn't see his previously completed paperwork, he assumed it had.

He sat down and started another stack until he glanced at the clock and realized he was late to breakfast. He made sure his briefcase held his lesson plans and books, then locked his door manually behind him, as well as casting a spell to deter lockpicks. Then he nearly sprinted to the Great Hall. He got there in time for a couple of scones, before he hurried back to his classroom on the fourth floor, near his office.

He set his briefcase on the table and pulled out the schedule Dumbledore had so kindly provided. He took one look at it. "Ah, hell no!"

"Professor?"

England's head shot up to see a young man – fifth year Gryffindor according to his schedule, his name was escaping him at the moment – standing in the doorway. "Ah, yes. Come in. Sorry about that. Take a seat. You're a bit early."

The boy nodded and England looked back at his schedule. There was a note at the bottom.

_Mr. Kirkland,_

_Don't worry about the overlapping classes. Every class is equipped with a special enchantment that will keep turning back time until you've finished the Period. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe, and your schedule is already set. Just teach every class as they come in and there won't be a problem._*

_Good luck, dear boy._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_Headmaster_

England sighed in a mix of relief and irritation. At least there would be no awkward duplication spells, but he was going to get tired _very_ quickly. Instead of five classes, he would have 35. Although, he hoped it wasn't actually that many. He hadn't looked at the schedule very carefully, but more of his fifth year students were filing in and he pulled out his lesson plan for the fifth years.

He had decided, after further inspectionǂ to teach the fifth years about British Magical History, using _A History of Magic_ simply as a guideline, as it didn't have as much as he would like. But, who better to teach such a subject than Britain himself.

He faced the class that had finally filled out and took a deep breath.

"Welcome to a History of Magic. I understand that you previously studied under Professor Binns. I too studied under him and I must say, he is rather dull."

There was a low rumble of laughter among the fifth years, though they still looked quite bored.

"I know that, for most of you, history is your least favorite subject. You don't get to do magic, or anything else exciting. Rather, you read lots of dry books and write lots of sub-standard papers. But, I'm here to teach you that history is so much more than that.

"Take recent history, for example. 11 years ago, everything changed. Does anybody know the event that I'm referring to? Please state your name."

A girl in the front raised her hand. She was blonde, with hazel eyes and a small nose. He thought her name was Penelope Davis.

He nodded at her.

"Penelope Daniels, sir. The death of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named by Harry Potter."

"Very good. Now, can anyone tell me why this matters?"

For a moment, the students stayed silent, as though surprised he would ask this question.

"Come on, somebody must know, it's not a trick question."

A boy in the back raised his hand. "Um, Peter Darcy, and, it was good because You-Know-Who was evil, right?"

"What do you mean by evil?"

"He killed lots of people," said a girl in the third row.

"Yes, what else?"

"He and his followers used the Unforgivable Curses on lots of people," Penelope said.

England nodded. "Very good. But, from now on, I would caution you from using terms like 'evil' to describe historical figures and events. While we all agree that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was evil, as a historian, one must strive to be as unbiased as possible. Not _everyone_ thinks he was evil. 10 points to Gryffindor."

The class began to murmur at his statement.

He cleared his throat. "Now, some ground rules. First, I would prefer that some discussion does occur, like it just did, but I will also tolerate no disrespect. Whether that's against me, or against another student, you will respect everyone in this classroom, whether or not you agree with them. You will do the readings when I assign them, otherwise you will not be able to participate, and that means, you won't get points."

The students erupted in shouts of surprise and shouts of unfairness.

England waited a short moment before clearing his throat. The room fell silent. "This year we will only be studying three chapters in _A History of Magic_. As such, I do not expect you to find this difficult. I will also be assigning one or two papers. These you should do, and I expect them to be well-written, well-researched, and well-reasoned. A study of History is a study of yourself.

"Now, are there any questions?"

The girl in the third row raised her hand.

He nodded at her. "Your name, please?"

"Maria Colbert, sir. What are we supposed to do about the rest of the chapters of _A History of Magic_?"

He nodded. "As I understand it, you have basically only covered the goblin rebellions. As a result, for the next couple of weeks, I will make sure you have a basic understanding of what you should have learned the past four years. Beyond that, it is up to you, though I am always willing to help you. For this year, I will make sure that the OWLS are tailored more to your situation."

"Other questions?"

"What is your opinion on the criminal Sirius Black?" asked a narrow-faced boy in the second row.

"Ah, Sirius Black. What's your name?"

"Martin McAfee."

"Thank you, Mr. McAfee. Sirius Black. Now, he's an interesting case. How many of you think he is evil?"

Everyone in the class raised their hands.

"Why?"

"Because he worked for You-Know-Who," said Percy Weasley, sitting in the second row next to Martin. He was a prefect this year, England believed.

"Perhaps. How do we know this?"

There was a moment of silence, then Percy responded again. "Because the Minister said so. He's in Azkaban after all. They don't put innocent people there."

England raised an eyebrow. "Don't they? Now, I don't mean to put doubt in your minds about the Ministry, but I want you to realize that when you study history, you have to question everything. Somebody give me a _reason_ Sirius Black is evil."

"He killed a whole bunch of muggles!" called somebody from the back."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere, Mr. -"

"Thomas. Thomas Cooper."

"Mr. Cooper. Thank you. Now, how do we know he killed a whole bunch of Muggles?"

"Because he was found at the scene of the crime," stated Penelope.

"Good. Good. We're finally getting somewhere. So, Sirius Black is evil because he killed Muggles. That's a good start. That's how I want all of your papers to be. Give me real _reasons _for your arguments. Now, it's about time for class to end. I want you all to read Chapters 1 and 2 of _A History of Magic_ for our next class. Don't worry, their short. Now off you go."

The students filed out, talking amongst themselves. England began shuffling through his papers and looked at his schedule again, this time more carefully. Luckily for him, he only had one more class until lunch today. He sighed in relief and waited for the sixth year students to arrive._§_

* * *

_**So, here's another chapter. I hope you don't mind the class you just had. I will not go through all of his classes, all of the time, but I wanted you guys to get a feel for the teaching style, and some more information about the curriculum, as well as some idea of what england will be doing ALL DAY, EVERY DAY. I promise I won't give this much detail all the time (though, I can, if you want. I can teach you how to be proper historians, or at least...magical ones...) ANYWAY...hope you enjoyed. Below are some notes about sources and information. IF you have any questions about sources or information I use, PLEASE ask. I am more than willing to explain and or refer you to whatever it is you may want. PLEASE, review. I love reviews.**_

_*So, actually, Hogwarts scheduling is a mess. I have used the sources of **rereadingharrypotter** on tumblr, post on hogwarts schedules, and **pottermorphs** on tumblr, and this mostly to get a good picture of it, as well as Harry Potter wikia: Sixth year. All of them made for quite a fun experience, compiling them into a schedule, and, guess what! England can teach anywhere from 1 to 4 classes in a Period (five periods in a day, break for lunch between periods 2 and 3). So, drawing from **rereadingharrypotter** and their ideas about how that's handled, I made up this excuse. Poor England. While I will probably never post the schedule, it does exist, and you'll get some idea of it. Originally I just wanted to know who he'd be teaching, and when he'd see Harry...but it got a bit out of hand...oh well._

_ǂRead: I actually looked at the books and made a curriculum and it differed slightly from the one outlined in chapter 1_

_§Note about this one. I could find very little information about sixth and seventh year schedules, but from what I could find (see Harry Potter _wikia_: Sixth year and hp-lexicon on schedules) the sixth and seventh year schedules are much sparser compared to the other years and I figured that, for History of Magic, at least, very few people would continue taking it, so I just made one combined class for each year._


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! Another chapter for you all. Just to remind you, he has just finished the Gryffindor 5th years and realized that he'd be teaching more than one class in a period via time-turner-esque magic.**

**Thank you for all of your reviews! I love them, thank you for suggestions as well! Even if I don't respond, I love them all!**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**I own the writing and any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.**

* * *

Two sixth year girls walked in, a girl he recognized as Patricia Paul, a Ravenclaw, and a girl he _thought _might be a Hufflepuff.

He smiled at them, earning blushes from both of them as they sat in the front row. He waited several more minutes before frowning. "Well, either everyone else is late, or you two are the only ones in the class."*

The girls exchanged glances and shrugged. Arthur shrugged. "Well, welcome to sixth year History of Magic, then. He picked up an empty desk and floated it over to sit in front of the girls. "Come on, then, let's make a circle. No need to be formal in a class this size."

The girls shifted their desks to make a circle and looked at him expectantly. "Let's introduce ourselves first. I'm Arthur Kirkland. I used to work for the Ministry in their Department of International Magical Cooperation before I became a professor here, this year."

Patricia Paul spoke next. "I'm Patricia Paul, I'm a Ravenclaw."

The Hufflepuff girl's voice was quiet. "I'm Marina Davis. I'm a Hufflepuff."

England nodded then cleared his throat. "This class is small, so this is especially important, but something I want you both to realize is that in this class, and in the real world, nobody cares what house you're from."

Patricia gasped. "But sir-"

"I will not give house points in this class. In the real world, you work with people from every house, and with people who didn't attend Hogwarts. The animosity that exists here, and the competition is not only pointless, but harmful in a real world situation. So I will not tolerate inter-house competition, though, I'm not worried about you two. If there were Gryffindors and Slytherins in this class-"

All three of them laughed.

England introduced the course, and the study of history, asking each girl _why_ they were in this class. He decided that, for two people, he could make an exception and copy the _Modern Magical History _for them, since that would be what they were studying, once they got through the catch-up chapters in _A History of Magic_. Soon enough, class was over and they all headed to lunch. At lunch he parted ways and ran into Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. He gave them a friendly smile.

"Hello, boys. How is your first day of classes going?"

Ronald looked hesitant, but Harry smiled. "Great, Mr. Kirkland, I mean professor."

England laughed. "Excellent. What have you had so far?"

"Potions with Snape," Harry said with a scowl.

England chuckled, "I don't blame you. I was a Slytherin here, but Snape is as foul as they come."

Ronald looked like he was going to puke when England said he was a Slytherin, but Harry, though shocked, tried to keep smiling.

England noticed. "Not all Slytherins are bad. Merlin was a Slytherin. Bad Slytherins give the rest of us a bad name, but, the same could be true of Gryffindors. Not all of them are good. Take Sirius Blackǂ, for example. Not many people know this, but he was a Gryffindor."

"No way!" Ron cried.

England shrugged. "Ask your friend, Miss Granger. I'm sure she could give you more information."

Ron scowled. "She's not my friend."

Harry glanced at Ron then at England. "Who's Sirius Black?"

England smiled cryptically. "A man who was locked in Azkeban for a terrible crime."

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at Ron. "Azkeban?"

"Wizard Prison. Nobody gets out. And they say Sirius Black worked for You-Know-Who."

"Oh," Harry said, giving England another strange face and then bidding him farewell and heading to the Gryffindor table for lunch.

England watched them go and then took his seat at the staff table. He sat in his seat, beside Charity Burbage, the delightful Muggle Studies professor. He noticed that Madame Pomfrey was currently absent. No doubt she had someone to take care of in the infirmary, so he was currently sitting next to the librarian, Irma Pince.§ He greeted both women and sat down to enjoy the delicious lunch.

He finished and returned to his office to work on some more paperwork before his next classes.

The lunch break ended and he returned to his classroom, not surprised to see no one there. According to his schedule he had second year Gryffindors, then fifth year Hufflepuffs. Then he had second year Ravenclaws and that was it for Mondays, thankfully.

The Gryffindors began to file in, still young and wide-eyed, despite their experience with Professor Binns.

The class filled up and he smiled at them all. "Welcome to History of Magic. My name is Arthur Kirkland and I am replacing Professor Binns. Now, before we get started, some ground rules. You will be quiet when I talk, but I want you to participate. Participation is the best way to learn. I also expect you to do your work when I assign it.

"Now," he said with a smile. "Let's get started."

He clapped his hands and the candles went out, leaving them in darkness. Several of the children gasped. "Who knows where magic comes from?"ǁ

Nobody answered in the darkness. He laughed and clapped his hands. A flash of light appeared and expanded to be a glowing map of the ancient continent the Muggles called Pangea. "The continents were once part of a great supercontinent populated by great dragons and monstrous beasts."

He spread his hands and the map rotated and the children could see dinosaurs and dragons and other scaly reptilians crawling across it, slowly evolving and changing as they watched. One student raised their hand hesitantly.

He nodded at her, "What's your name?"

"Melva Dennell. And, sir, what's a continent?"

For a moment, England was dumbfounded, but then he silently cursed wizarding education and smiled at her. "A continent is simply a term applied to any great landmass in the world. For example Africa is a continent, and Europe is a continent. Make sense?"

The students nodded slowly, but he could see that some of them were still confused. He resolved to have a geography lesson the next class.

"Then, the continent began to split apart and most of the great monsters died out as the world changed, though they were replaced by the ancestors of the creatures we know today." He clapped his hands and the continent began to split apart, fracturing and spreading amidst earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. Slowly, the monsters disappeared, becoming animals and mammals and smaller reptiles and he clapped his hands again, rotating the map back to vertical.

It was now a map of the world. "Many long years passed before humans began to exist, but, what began to exist before then, was magic."

Points of light began to appear on the map. There was one on each continent, pulsing brightly. "There were seven great Dragons, each powerful who had, by common consent, each departed to one of the new continents. Whether these dragons are still alive is debated by scholars. However, these great dragons are the origin of magic. Each dragon, by its influence, changed many of the animals inhabitting the earth into magical creatures. However, here, the dragon did more than that."

He spread his hands again, the map zooming in on the Eastern coast of Africa, where a pinprick of light glowed. "Here the great dragon, Afruika**, named so by the Egyptians for its role in the birth of humankind and magic, found a people, not yet evolved into humans, but by far more intelligent and reasonable than the other animals. Under his tutelage, a small group of the people began to evolve into humans. Thus, the modern human was born."

As he continued to speak, light began to travel across the continents in lines, spreading and populating the landscape. "At the beginning, every person had the ability to do magic, but as the people spread further from the great dragon, in both time and distance, some of them began to forget, losing that ability. Thus, Muggles were born, and the great division between wizards and Muggles began."

With that he clapped his hands and the map vanished, and the candles lit, leaving the room lit but significantly less interesting.

The children sighed in disappointment. England smiled at them. "Any questions?"

The girl behind Melva raised her hand. "How did you do that?"

England smiled. "It's a very old piece of magic that requires great mental concentration and some ability with non-verbal spells, as there is no incantation for it. Rather, it is using magic to create something that you visualize."

There was a murmur of amazement around the room. A boy in the front raised his hand. "Does that mean you're very powerful?"

England shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'm still very young. It was just something a very old friend taught me once."

"Was he powerful?"

"I suppose, yes," England said, thinking of Egyptǂǂ. "Any other questions?"

The room was silent and he smiled. "Have a good day. For your next class I would like you to study the map in the front of your book."

The students groaned and filed out. England smiled at their retreating backs. His lesson had gone quite well, though he had been nervous about teaching the younger students.

His fifth year students began to file in and he looked at the clock on the wall. Once again, it said 1:00. He sighed. He didn't like this time-turner thing, but, it made sense, in a twisted way.

He began his lecture to the fifth year Hufflepuffs, structuring it the same way as the Gryffindors. Not surprisingly, he got more questions and more interest in the subject. He had always liked Hufflepuffs.

* * *

_**Hello, hope you enjoyed yet another chapter. I'm trying to find a good balance between teaching and summaries and just time passing, so, if you have any suggestions or requests, please let me know! :) Also, I love reviews. :)  
So...some information:**_

*Let's be honest. How many people would _actually_ take History of Magic?

ǂI know, I know. Sirius is innocent. HOWEVER, while England knows this, nobody else does, and he never _exactly _says that he's bad, or worked with Voldemort. He simply lets people makes assumptions. He doesn't know exactly what happened when Peter Pettigrew "died" at Sirius' hand, but he does know, for certain now, that Peter Pettigrew is alive (Scabbers). However, England does not want to mess too much with things, rather he is inclined to let things play out a bit, though if it begins to endanger Harry, he will intervene

§Seating arrangement is my own, but I did use the information found on _hp-lexicon hogwarts professors_ to identify all professors. Also, I tried to stay somewhat close to canon, but seating arrangement varies from movie to movie, and from scene to scene within movies. A common trend, though is McGonagall to the right of Dumbledore and Trelawny (or some chick) to the left, and Hagrid on one end. Now whether that means there isn't a _real_ arrangement to it, I don't know, but I think seating arrangements are helpful, and useful, especially when it comes to staff. And I should think that the table changes size depending on who is there (Goblet of Fire – way more visitors)

ǁThis history is my own, however it is based on this essay: mypocketshurt90 on tumblr, the post: i-sent-this-paper-to-jk-rowling-explaining-how-the, and the accepted, scientific explanations for the evolution of man. If you have questions, feel free to ask, but most information (not related to magic) can be found on the internet with a quick search. Wikipedia has a decent page on it.**See the Wikipedia page on Africa – this term af-rui-ka (mean "to turn toward the opening of the Ka" or the birthplace) is Egyptian in origin and one possible explanation for the term "Africa"

**See the Wikipedia page on Africa – this term af-rui-ka (mean "to turn toward the opening of the Ka" or the birthplace) is Egyptian in origin and one possible explanation for the term "Africa"

ǂǂHonestly, from what I can find in my several sources (see Chapter 1 and 2) Egypt is likely one of the original sources of magic, and I think that Egypt, though less interested now, was fairly powerful and learned a lot from his mother Ancient Egypt about the magic of the soul beyond wand-waving and incantations.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again. Here is another chapter. Thank you for all of your support! I love every one of my readers! :)**

**Reminder, England is teaching lots of classes in a time-turner-esque classroom!**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**Writing belongs to who it belongs to (J.K Rowling, and me)**

**I own any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.**

* * *

Honestly, England was tired. Every day there was only one class after another, and though there began to be some variety as the weeks progressed, he was growing bored of the repetitive nature of his classes. However, he began to understand why most of the core professors: Snape McGonagall, etc. were always sour. He was a country and he was exhausted. Factor in grading and all the paperwork his damn Prime Minister kept giving him, well, let's just say he didn't sleep much. The only positive things were his sixth and seventh year students, who were smart, interested, and personable; and Harry Potter and his friends who were all friendly and inquisitive, especially Miss Granger.

One day, a few weeks into classes, he walked into his first year Gryffindor class to find it in chaos. What he managed to discover was that, through a lucky bit of rule breaking, Harry had landed himself a place on the Gryffindor quidditch team, as the seeker, no less. England was impressed, but put his foot down and started his lesson.

As Harry and his buddies left, England congratulated him. Then he noticed Miss Granger waiting in front of his desk. "Can I help you, Miss Granger?"

Her cheeks were red. "Um, professor. I need some help."

England smiled encouragingly. "Surely not with history, already you're top of the class and don't expect that to change. Your coursework and participation are exemplary."

She smiled gratefully but shook her head. "No, sir, that's not it."

"Then what is it?" he asked gently, already sure he knew what was troubling her.

"How do you, I don't know how to fit in. I don't have any friends and people only talk to me to get help on classwork."

England nodded. "I see. Well, I'm going to tell you two things. First, people don't like people who are better than them. Whether they're smarter, more good, more athletic, more studious, it doesn't matter. People don't like feeling inferior, so they will anything to make it stop."

Hermione nodded and England could tell she was about to cry.

"That being said, Miss Hermione Granger, you should never let the thoughts and actions of other people stop you from being yourself. You are the brightest witch of your age, and possibly the brightest in Hogwarts. Don't sell yourself short. Be yourself, and everyone will come around eventually."

The girl brightened and was about to leave, when he stopped her. "One last thing, Miss Granger. Don't let your thirst for knowledge blind you, and beware of pride. That's how great witches always fall."

She nodded solemnly and skipped away. England smiled as he watched her leave, then got ready for his next class.

Unfortunately for him, his peace that evening was interrupted by the shrill voice of Peeves, how he hated that ghost, shouting, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED!"

England had an idea about who it was and quickly sprinted out of his room, toward the sound. As he ran down to the third floor, he saw a flash of red hair. He sprinted after them and soon found himself in the so-called Forbidden Corridor. He frowned and quickly approached the four children who looked at him in terror. He put a finger to his lips as Filch interrogated Peeves. "Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please.'"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.

"All right -please."

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville!" For Neville had been tugging on the sleeve of Harry's bathrobe for the last minute. "What?"

Harry turned around - and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare - this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as he had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harry knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that; there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. England reacted quickly and shoved the children toward the door. "Out!"

The children didn't need to be told twice. They ran for their lives and England locked eyes with the Cerberus. He began singing an old lullaby, one long since forgotten that had been a spell to put troublesome children to sleep. The great monster's eyes began to droop and England backed away toward the door, escaping the corridor and locking it behind him.

He then marched over to the Headmasters office. He didn't care what Dumbledore was trying to protect. A Cerebrus locked in a room in a school full of children! The man had gone too far.

He spat the password at the gargoyle and stepped onto the first step, foot tapping as the staircase spiraled upward. He stormed into the office. Dumbledore looked up from his Phoenix. "Ah, Arthur. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

England scowled at the man. "Why the h- is there a Cerebros in the third floor corridor!? This a school for children, not a private security service!"

"I see you met Hagrid's pet Fluffy. I must ask, however, how you came upon him."

"Your star student Mr. Potter was exploring and it's only thanks to me that he escaped uninjured."

The arrogant fool nodded. "Of course. Thank you for that, but I must insist you involve yourself no further in the matter. The children here are perfectly safe."

"That's what you said about the Potters, and look where they are now," England muttered as he marched away.

"Pardon?"

"As you wish, Albus," England said with a mocking bow as the stairs began to descend.

* * *

**Snarky England. Haha, anyway, hope you enjoyed meeting Fluffy! **

**Anyway, until next time.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Haha! Another chapter. These come out in big chunks of writing, so you'll get multiple chapters in one update. Love you guys!**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**Writing belongs to who it belongs to (J.K Rowling, and me)**

**I own any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.****.**

* * *

The next day, England was surprised but delighted by the broom – please, it was obvious – that Harry received in the mail. He glanced at McGonagall and saw her smiling at the boy as well. He knew the boy would be a great asset to the Gryffindor team.

He fell back into the uneventful routine of classes and paperwork. Halloween came around though for most of the day it was pretty normal and boring. However, during the Halloween feast – Dumbledore would celebrate anything, the old fool – Quirrell was absent, which was strange. He also noticed that Miss Granger was missing and he frowned and glared slightly at Harry and Ron, not that they were paying attention.

England was just helping himself to the food when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately. Teachers, come with me!"

England followed Dumbledore, but then saw Snape break away from the group, headed for the stairs. He also noticed Quirrell getting up and going the same direction. He frowned and began to follow the two men. As he did, though, he saw a flash of red hair. Those boys attracted danger like France attracted women. Way too much.

England frowned as he caught a whiff of the foul stench: a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it - a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. At the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

England watched the boys, if necessary he would get involved, but trolls were dumb and easily trapped, but, he frowned, Hermione was in there. The boys quickly locked the door and sprinted off, just as England sprinted for the door. Then they heard something that made their hearts stop - a high, petrified scream - and it was coming from the chamber.

Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and nearly ran into England. He glared at them and finished unlocking the door.

Hermione Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if she was about to faint. The troll was advancing on her, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went. England scowled at it and readied his wand when Harry threw a broken tap at the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermione. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harry. It hesitated, then made for him instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ron from the other side of the chamber, and he threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ron instead, giving Harry time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harry yelled at Hermione, trying to pull her toward the door, but she couldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way to escape. All England could do was stand and stare at the sheer luck and stupidity of the children.

Harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: He took a great running jump and managed to fasten his arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harry hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harry's wand had still been in his hand when he'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harry clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip him off or catch him a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron raised his wand to do, we'll what he didn't know. It was then that England finally got control of himself and threw a very powerful stunning spell at the troll. A normal wizard would not be capable of a spell that magnitude, but, then again, he wasn't normal. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harry got to his feet. He was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there, looking between England and the troll.

It was Hermione who spoke first; she didn't seem to have seen England. "Is it - dead?"

I don't think so," said Harry, "I think it's just been knocked out."

He bent down and pulled his wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh - troll boogers."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers. Ron continued gaping at England. "How, Professor, that, trolls are resistant to magic."

England smiled cryptically as a sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ron and Harry. Harry had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white. England leaned against the wall, keeping a close eye on Snape and the hyperventilating Quirrell.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harry looked at Ron, who was still standing with his wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry looked at the floor.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. "I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them."

England was impressed with Hermione's loyalty, and tried not to laugh at Ron's shock.

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well - in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. England was impressed by Hermione's lying, she was quite convincing and had quite the future.

"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber leaving England with the other professors. It was only then that McGonagall noticed him. "Arthur! How long have you been here?"

"Only as long as you have," he lied smoothly.

Only Snape looked at him suspiciously and the four of them departed to their own offices.

* * *

**Now we know where Canada gets his invisibility! Haha, I don't know. I just think that England could have escaped noticed as part of the "environment" if you will. HEADCANON: As a country, he can either be super noticeable, or less noticeable, depending on what he wants. Canada just isn't as good at remaining noticeable (I blame Canadians...:P JK, I love Canadians, and I love Canada)**

**So, hope you enjoy it! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**ANOTHER Chapter for you guys. Like I said, they all sort of happen in chunks. This will just help me when I don't have time to write.**

**Or would you rather I space out the posting? Thanks for your support!**

**Thanks for your support!**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**Writing belongs to who it belongs to (J.K Rowling, and me)**

**I own any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.**

* * *

A couple months later, the first Quidditch game of the season began. England was delighted. He had not seen a game in decades and he was also excited to see Harry play. That morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. England sat in the back of the staff box, behind both Snape and Quirrell. Not that he had wanted to, being near Quirrell always gave him a splitting headache, but he had been grading papers and had lost track of time, so he had to grab one of the few available seats left. He glanced at the Gryffindor box and saw that Harry's friends had made him a large banner. It said Potter for President, and had a large Gryffindor lion underneath. The paint flashed different colors.

The teams walked onto the field to loud cheers. Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. "Mount your brooms, please."

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor - what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too -"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve - back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes - Flint flying like an eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and - OUCH - that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger - Quaffle taken by the Slytherins - that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger - sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes - she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goal posts are ahead - come on, now, Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Way up above them, Harry was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. At one point, a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harry dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"All right there, Harry?" he had time to yell, as he beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcus Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the - wait a moment - was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Harry saw it. In a great rush of excitement he dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Harry was faster than Higgs - he put on an extra spurt of speed -

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below - Marcus Flint had blocked Harry on purpose, and Harry's broom spun off course, Harry holding on for dear life.

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors.

Madam Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

England scowled at Flint and McGonagall for interrupting Jordan's delightful commentary, as the boy was finding it difficult not to take sides.

"So - after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating..."

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul..."

"Jordan, I'm warning you -"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinner, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

It was as Harry dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past his head, that it happened. His broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, England thought he was going to fall. He gripped the broom tightly with both his hands and knees.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck him off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harry tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal- posts - and then he realized that his broom was completely out of his control. He couldn't turn it. He couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated him. England was riveted and muttered a quick spell that would cushion Hart's fall, should the broom get the better of him.

Lee was still commentating: "Slytherin in possession - Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell - hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor - Slytherins score - Ano...

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harry's broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying him slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went.

England looked around, trying to determine the cause. Then, he noticed both Quirrell and Snape as riveted as himself. A quick bit of Legilimency told him that Quirell was the cause and Snape was trying to help. He sighed. Why Quirrell? Then he got another headache.

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry's broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

Harry's broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for him to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harry safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell. Marcus Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing.

England noticed Hermione fighting her way across to the stand where Snape stood, and was racing along the row behind him; she didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. England smirked in satisfaction. Reaching Snape, she crouched down, pulled out her wand, and whispered a few, well- chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from her wand onto the hem of Snape's robes. England snickered.

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Snape to realize that he was on fire. A sudden yelp told her she had done her job. Scooping the fire off him into a little jar in her pocket, she scrambled back along the row - Snape would never know what had happened.

Harry was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw him clap his hand to his mouth as though he was about to be sick - he hit the field on all fours - coughed - and something gold fell into his hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

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**YAY! Gryffindor Wins!**

**Hope you enjoyed, please review. :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**And, another one! It's the last one for a while guys, sorry. School, and all that.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER:**

**Harry Potter and all associated plot, locations, and characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and whoever else it belongs to.**

**Axis Powers Hetalia and all associated characters belong to Himaruya.**

**All information and research is listed at the bottom and belongs to their respective owners.**

**Writing belongs to who it belongs to (J.K Rowling, and me)**

**I own any non-canonical characters that may be introduced.**

* * *

As the weather began to change, everyone began looking forward to Christmas. It was a blasted irritation for England, his students were becoming increasingly distracted, and increasingly worse at doing their assignments. Even his sixth and seventh years had caught the bug and on the last day of classes, he let his final period students out early.

One interesting thing, that made him distrust Dumbledore's motives even more, was the question Miss Granger asked him after class ended. She approached his desk cautiously. "Professor, I was doing some reading and saw a mention of a Nicholas Flamel, but there wasn't a lot of information about him. I was wondering if you knew anything about him."

_Nicholas Flamel._ How that name brought back memories. "He's an alchemist, dear girl. He is known for being the sole creator of the Philosopher's Stone."

Her eyes widened. "The stone said to give the user eternal youth!?"

He nodded.

"Then that's-" she broke off. "Thanks, Professor."

England stopped her before she could hurry away. "Miss Granger, what do you say we keep this information between the two of us, at least until after Christmas."

"But-"

He smiled. "I know what you and your friends are up to. All I'm saying is that you should be careful with your information. You never know who might be listening. And with something like the stone involved..."

She stared at him for a moment, looking positively startled.

"Surely you know who I mean," England said softly. Hermione nodded quickly and fled the room.

Christmas morning was a quiet affair for England. However, the Christmas feast had a nasty surprise in store for him.

As he was enjoying the flaming pudding, his owl Excalibur flew into the great hall holding a small package. Excalibur dropped the package in his lap, then flew off. England stared at the brown paper package then noticed an ominous red envelope attached to the bottom of the package. It had already begun to smoke.

England cursed under his breath. He was not drunk enough for this. So, he opened the envelope. It folded itself into a mouth and the voices of his brothers, America and Canada included, burst out, singing some godawful rendition of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas". By the sound of it, they were all thoroughly drunk, and so their bad singing was worsened. They sounded like yowling cats.

Everyone paused their festivities to stare at the red-faced blond. He sighed in relief when the song finished, but froze when Scotland's voice said, "Enjoy your present, little bro."

Then the howler went up in smoke. The drunken staff table erupted in laughter at a joke well-played, and the whole room joined them. Hagrid reached across and patted England's shoulder. If England had been human, his spine would have broken. As it was, the pat knocked him into his pudding, earning more laughter. England cleaned himself up with a quick spell then gingerly picked up the package and left the Great Hall.

Once in his office, he put several wards around the package before unwrapping it with a spell. what was inside surprised him.

It was a real present: an assortment of American and Canadian chocolates, a package of Haggis that _had_ to be from Scott, a knitted hat from Wales, the dear, and a letter from the Ireland twins. He smiled fondly and removed the wards and was instantly hit with a spray of glitter that had America written all over it. Unfortunately, the glitter had the side effect of smelling terrible. He scowled. He would get those wankers back. Hard.

After several intensive spells, the smell was gone, as was most of the glitter. What was visible anyway.

A couple days later, at breakfast, England noticed that Harry looked out of it. Ron was talking, but Harry was distracted and fixated on something. So, he followed the boy.

Harry entered the Gryffindor common room, then a few minutes later, appeared again, under an invisibility cloak. Where the hell did he get one of those? England blamed Dumbledore and followed the Harry into an empty classroom that, to his dismay, held one of the worst magical creations ever, in his opinion. He watched as Harry sat down in front of it, staring longingly into its depths.

"You know, Harry, it doesn't do to dwell on possibilities."

Harry spun around and guiltily avoided England's eyes. " - I didn't see you, sir."

"Invisibility often has the strange effect of making one blind, dear boy," England said gently.

Harry nodded, relaxing slightly.

"So, you have found the Mirror of Erised."

"I didn't know it was called that, Sir."

"Do you know what it does?"

"It - well - it shows me my family -"

"But it showed Ron something different, yes?"

"How did you know -?"

"I know quite a lot, Harry. Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harry thought. Then he said slowly, "It shows us what we want...whatever we want..."

"Yes, and no," England said, avoiding looking into the mirror himself. "It shows only the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ron sees his hopes of becoming more than his older brothers. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen. Others have been driven mad by their desire. Harry, dear boy, your family loved you, and they are always part of you. Do not squander the life they gave you pining after their images. Instead, live in their memory. So, promise me you won't come back?"

Harry glanced at the mirror, then nodded.

England smiled. "Now, why don't you put that cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harry stood up. "Sir - Professor Kirkland? Can I ask you something?"

England nodded.

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

England's face grew sad. "I see family, like you dear boy. I have lost many members for many reasons, and I wish only for them back, for my family all together again."

Harry nodded solemnly, then left. It was then that England approached the mirror. He stared at the swirling images. He had told Harry his deepest desire, but the magic that had made the mirror never worked well with nations. It swirled between images, trying to pick one that fit. But he was every one of his citizens, and they all desired many things. He sighed and conjured a sheet, throwing it over the mirror and walking away.

* * *

**Here it is, hope you guys enjoyed Christmas and the prank gift.**

**Also, I hope you enjoyed the Mirror of Erised. Please review! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello, again, here's a new chapter! I hope you enjoy.**

**Just, a reminder, Harry found the Mirror of Erised, and England convinced him to leave.**

* * *

England was pleased that Harry had not returned to the mirror, and he was also glad to find that the mirror had disappeared as well. However, school soon started again and England found himself wishing for something else interesting to happen. He could tell that Hermione had told Harry and Ron about the Philosopher's stone, as that was all they talked about. That, and Snape involvement with it. He was amused that they blamed Snape for everything, but worried for Harry because the boy was terrified of playing with Snape refereeing. He wished he could reassure him, but England had no real proof.

The Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor game began in earnest, though this time England had a much better seat. Although, it _had_ to be next to Dumbledore, who was actually attending. England wondered if it had to so with Quirrell's attack on harry, the last game.

Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a bludger at him. Harry, was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

Dumbledore leaned over to England. "You are quite a talented liar, Arthur Kirkland. But, you should learn to trust me. We are on the same side."

England tried not to scowl. He tried to keep his voice level as he replied. "If you are referring to Harry Potter, I must disagree. We have very different ideas about how to care for him and how to take care of the Dark Lord."

England couldn't help the small smirk of triumph as surprise flashed in Dumbledore's blue eyes. Dumbledore didn't have a chance to respond as Harry had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. England cheered as Harry streaked toward the ground like a bullet.

Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches – the next second, Harry had pulled out of the dive, his arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in his hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Harry jumped off his broom, a foot from the ground. The game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, Snape landed nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped – then Dumbledore set a hand on Harry's shoulder, smiling. Right behind him was a beaming England. Harry nodded at Dumbledore and smiled at England.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harry could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror... been keeping busy... excellent..." Harry shot England a questioning look and England shrugged.

Snape spat bitterly on the ground. England turned his attention toward Quirrell, who, though stuttering and nervous as usual, actually looked quite irritated. When he walked away from the pitch, England followed.

He entered the castle, then traveled back outside, headed toward the forest, with hurried steps. He followed behind, muttering a quick invisibility spell as he followed Quirrell into the Forbidden Forest.

He positioned himself near Quirrell, facing the treeline. Soon enough, Snape arrived, trailed by Harry Potter. England shook his head. That boy. He smiled fondly and focused on the two men.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus..."

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone, after all."

Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I -"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you mean."

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted. "You almost jeopardized everything with your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting," Snape said impatiently.

"B-but I d-d-don't -"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but England could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

England frowned. What exactly was going on? He took a step toward Quirrell, then froze when Quirrell began to speak to himself, in a firm voice completely unlike him. England quickly shielded his presence further, though not with magic, and stopped breathing.

"My Lord, I can't trust him. He is in Dumbledore's palm."

England watched in fascination as Quirrell listened to something that only he could hear. He tried to ignore his growing headache.

"Of course, my Lord. Soon we will have the stone and then you can destroy the fool Dumbledore, and his precious Harry Potter."

A crack echoed through the forest and Quirrell froze. He seemed to listen a few more seconds and then departed. England stayed frozen for a while longer. So both Quirrell and Snape were working for Tom Riddle. Although Snape had protected Harry, despite his loathing for the boy. He wondered if, and how, Dumbledore had made the man a double agent.

A memory surfaced and he made a face. Typical. He finally removed his shielding and returned to the castle, resolving to fix it himself, since Dumbledore was doing nothing.

England started pestering Quirrell. Any time he found a solitary moment with the man, which was frequent as he had memorized his schedule, he would interrogate the man.

"So, Quirinus, tell me. How was Romania?"

"I-i-it was g-g-good. W-w-why d-d-d-do y-y-you a-ask?"

"Just curious about your stutter, and how recent a development it was."

"I-I-I-I've always h-h-had it."

"You're lying Quirinus. You didn't have one before two years ago."

"I-I-I-I-I-I d-d-d-don't r-rec-call ever m-m-meeting you."

"That's alright," England said cheerily. "That's how it is supposed to be."

For a moment, Quirrell's facade of timid anxiety gave way to suspicion and interest, but then the stutter was back. "I-I-I s-s-see."

"What relationship do you have with Severus?"

"H-h-h-he is a f-f-fell-l-low p-p-professor. W-w-we b-b-barely k-know each other."

"You're lying," England said coldly, trapping Quirrell to the wall. He was trying to ignore his growing headache.

"What's under the turban?"

"M-m-my h-h-head o-of c-c-course." Quirrell laughed nervously at his joke.

"You won't mind if I remove it, then?"

"O-o-of c-c-course n-not."

As England reached up to undo the turban, he saw Quirrell reach for his wand. He had a moment to step back before he was hit with a stunning spell. While it only made him dizzy for a moment, it was enough for Quirrell to escape into the hallways. England cursed. He'd never get Quirrell alone now. And he _needed _to know what was under that turban, because it certainly wasn't Quirrell's head.

From then on, Quirrell studiously avoided England. If he had to be near him, there was always someone else in the room. So, England changed tactics.

One day, after classes were finished, he marched into Snape's dungeon office and shut the door.

"Professor Kirkland," Snape drawled. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"A common enemy," England scowled.

"And who might that be?"

England had weighed his options very carefully. If he said the wrong thing, he would lose Snape as an ally and, possibly, be kicked out. So, he took the safe route. "The Dark Lord."

Snape looked both interested, startled, and suspicious. "Why would you come to me? He is everyone's enemy."

"Because I know who you were, and I know that we both know that he is here, right now."

Snape's scowl deepened. " I don't know what you mean."

"Quirrell, dammit!"

Snape immediately closed up, suspicion coating his features. "What do you know about Quirrell.?"

"That he is in communication with the Dark Lord and that his turban is not what he says he knows."

"And do you have any proof?"

"I heard him speaking to 'My Lord', referring to the demise of both Dumbledore and Harry Potter, and then he stunned me when I tried to remove his turban."

"Why don't you tell Dumbledore this?"

England scoffed. "You and I both know the Headmaster is far too trusting."

Snape nodded. "How do I know I can trust you?"

England looked deep into the man's eyes, allowing himself to understand everything about Severus Snape, lonely child, Lily's friend, Death Eater, double agent. "Because, I remember Lily too," he said solemnly, extending his full influence as a nation.

A tear trickled down Snape's cheek. He nodded and England cut off the connection, resisting the urge to vomit. Oh, how he loathed this man.

"You know as much as I do. Quirrell is working for the Dark Lord to get the Philosopher's Stone. Somehow he's in contact with the Dark Lord, and he is faking the stutter. As I understand it he is trying to get close to Harry Potter to make it easier to kill him."

England nodded. "Thank you, Severus. I will keep you posted on anything else I learn, if you will do the same."

Snape nodded. "For Lily's sake."

England nodded, trying not to gag, and left. After all this time, and Snape was still obsessed with Lily. He shook his head and returned to his office in time to see Harry and Company headed to Hagrid's hut, under an invisibility cloak.

He chuckled softly and started on his paperwork.

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**So, I have finished the first book, but...I'm going to post one chapter every so often, to buy me time to start the second one. :) Love you guys!**

**Hope you enjoy, please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Aha! Another chapter, things start to get interesting here. Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

England was quite interested in the argument that started between Ron and Hermione a few days later, when Hedwig brought Harry a note. During the morning break, he looked out his office window and saw the three children hurrying toward Hagrid's hut. His curiosity peaked, he resolved to visit Hagrid himself to see what all the fuss was about.

After classes were finished for the evening, England strolled outside to the gamekeeper's hut. He knocked on the door. He heard some scuffling and then Hagrid called, "Who is it?"

"It's Professor Kirkland, I was wondering if you might join me for a drink."

"Um," there was a loud thump, and a muffled cry, then Hagrid spoke again. It sounded like he was in pain. "Imma bit busy, right now. Maybe come back later."

England caught a whiff of something between burning hair, blood, and brandy. "Do you have a dragon in there?"

"Wha? No, no, of course not. Why would I have a dragon? It's illegal ain't it?"

England chuckled and reached for the handle. "I'm coming in."

"Don't – wait!"

England got a gout of fire right in his face. He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut. Dammit.

"Oh dear. This isn't good. Come on, professor, come inside. Le's getcha patched up."

England waved his ministrations away. "I will be perfectly fine, Hagrid. Don't worry about it."

"Bu-"

"Hagrid, please. We all have our secrets. Now, where's the little drake?"

Hagrid pointed. Not that the Norwegian Ridgeback was hard to miss. It was clearly newly-hatched, but it was already lively, and quickly growing. England shook his head in amazement. "How'd you get her?"

"I got 'im from a dealer. Looked real eager to get rid of 'im."

"Her," England corrected.

"'e's a 'im."

"Her," England repeated. "Your Norwegian Ridgeback is a female. But, you can't keep her here."

Hagrid hesitated for a moment. "I can't let 'im go. He's too little He'd die."

"I wasn't suggesting that, dear man! Of course she's too young. I have a friend in Romania, he has access to the dragon sanctuaries there. I am sure he could find a safe place for your little darling."

Hagrid sniffled, looking ready to cry. "I-I s'pose it would be best, wouldn't it."

England nodded, patting the huge man on the shoulder. "It would, she'd be among her own kind, and you wouldn't get into trouble, raising a dragon by yourself.

Hagrid nodded. "Okay. You can contact your friend."

England left, passing the invisible trio of children as he did. He shook his head and smiled. They were too nosy and helpful for their own good. He liked it.

He wrote a letter to Romania, and told him of the situation. He made sure to mention his location in Hogwarts, and the children.

He received a letter back the next day.

_Arthur,_

_Well, fancy that. A dragon on Hogwarts grounds. That is quite the story. I understand your need to relocate her. I have a Weasley here, working in one of my dragon sanctuaries. It will be a simple matter to get that information relayed to him, and if he gets help from you, or someone in Hogwarts, it will be quite simple to bring the hatchling here._

_Charlie Weasley will get information to his younger brother, and then it will be quite simple from there._

_Vlad  
_

England returned two days later to Hagrid's hut, to find him struggling with the massive dragon stuffed into his hut. Hagrid was crying.

"Everything alright?"

"Norbert's leaving."

"When?"

"Saturday night. Charlie's coming and getting him. The kids are sneaking him up to the tallest tower."

England nodded. "Excellent. I'll make sure Norbert stays safe."

Hagrid's crying intensified and he hugged England tightly. England patted the man's shoulder, trying to ignore his creaking bones.

Saturday night, England was helping Hagrid pack the dragon into the crate. Harry and Hermione knocked on the door. Apparently, Ronald had received a nasty bite on his hand and was stuck in the Hospital Wing. He stood by Hagrid as he cried.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harry and Hermione covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

England waited until the children were out of sight, then he patted Hagrid farewell and hurried after the children, whispering an invisibility spell. He helped the children along, keeping teachers away from them, and making sure the staircases behaved.

"Nearly there!" Harry panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you -"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harry Potter's coming - he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

England tried not to snicker.

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harry and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harry and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going... going... gone. England made sure that the coast was clear as the children slipped back down the spiral staircase. He followed them down, then stopped just above them as they ran into Filch.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we are in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower. England hurried back up the stairs, retrieving the cloak and then slipping into the Gryffindor dormitories. He left the cloak neatly folded on Harry's bed and then went to McGonagall's study where he listened intently through the door.

"Harry!" Neville burst out, the moment he saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Malfoy saying he was going to catch you, he said you had a drag -"

Harry shook his head violently to shut Neville up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. She looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as she towered over the three of them.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Harry caught Neville's eye and tried to tell him without words that this wasn't true, because Neville was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Neville - Harry knew what it must have cost him to try and find them in the dark, to warn them.

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Potter, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions - yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous - and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped - they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor - please

"You can't -"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

England was rather shocked, but couldn't blame McGonagall.

Unfortunately for the children, this made them all very unpopular and England wished he could comfort them. However, he continued his vigil on Quirrell, and, with Snape's help, he managed to catch the man in a rare moment of solitude. But, this time, he didn't confront him, he watched, and listened.

"No - no - not again, please –"

"All right - all right -" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight.

England also noticed Harry slipping away from the scene. He had seen it too. So, he followed Harry into the library, curious, and worried, about what the boy was going to do about the new information.

Harry went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harry told them what he'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell -"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Ron, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harry?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron's eyes, but Hermione answered before Harry could.

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"But we've got no proof!" said Harry. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Snape's only got to say he doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that he was nowhere near the third floor - who do you think they'll believe, him or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate him, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get him sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if his life depended on it, he's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, he'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining."

Hermione looked convinced, but Ron didn't.

"If we just do a bit of poking around –"

England was about to interrupt, but then Harry spoke again.

"No," said Harry flatly, "we've done enough poking around."

He pulled a map of Jupiter toward him and started to learn the names of its moons.

England nodded and walked away.

* * *

**Haha! New chapter. Now, just a reminder, I am going off what the BOOKS do, not what the movies do, so there are no inaccuracies (I am reading through the book as I write this, so that's part of the reason why it takes so long.) Anyway, hope you enjoy. :)  
**

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**So...this is an exciting (?), but LONG chapter...so, bear with it...there was just no good way to split it up.**

**DISCLAIMER: at least 90% of this belongs to J.K. Rowling**

**Everything else belongs to who it does, I'm just writing for enjoyment...**

* * *

England was working on paperwork, when he noticed the four children following Filch toward the Forbidden Forest. He remembered the detentions, and scowled. They were going to the Forbidden Forest. Unacceptable.

He quickly cast an invisibility spell and darted out of his office, sprinting outside, catching up with them at the gamekeeper's hut.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Filch was smiling. "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy - it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night - there's all sorts of things in there - werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harry's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, a note of panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yehve got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on"'

Malfoy didn't move. He looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

England scowled. Unicorns. Hurt and killed. Who dared. _The Dark Lord, obviously_. His scowl deepened. How dare he?

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, unable to keep the fear out of his voice.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now - that's it - an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh - so, be careful - let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Neville, and Fang took the right. England hesitated for a second, before following Harry and group deeper into the forest.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves.

Harry saw that Hagrid looked very worried.

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harry asked.

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harry could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path.

"You all right, Hermione?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter - GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harry and Hermione and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. He pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away. England winced as a headache started.

"I knew it, " he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Harry suggested.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now."

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself - I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came - was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped. England smiled. He hadn't seen a centaur in a long time.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harry Potter an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We'd noticed," said Hermione faintly.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm -"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt - you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

England inhaled sharply. He didn't like the implications of what Ronan was saying.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin', Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home, said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured - would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harry and Hermione followed him out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view.

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon."

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermione.

"Oh, a fair few... Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs... they know things... jus' don' let on much."

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harry.

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns - never heard anythin' like it before."

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harry kept looking nervously over his shoulder. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermione grabbed Hagrid's arm.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

England watched the man go and attuned his senses further.

They heard him crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them.

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermione.

"I don't care if Malfoy has, but if something's got Neville... it's our fault he's here in the first place."

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harry's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Malfoy, Neville, and Fang were with him. Hagrid was fuming. Malfoy, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Neville and grabbed him as a joke. Neville had panicked and sent up the sparks.

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups - Neville, you stay with me an' Hermione, Harry, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harry, "but he'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

England once again followed Harry as Harry set off into the heart of the forest with Malfoy and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. The blood seemed to be getting thicker too. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harry could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look -" he murmured, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

Harry had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made him freeze where he stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered...Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted - so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harry - unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harry - he couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like he'd never felt before pierced his head; it was as though his scar were on fire. Half blinded, he staggered backward. He heard hooves behind him, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harry, charging at the figure.

England's head felt like it was being split in two, but he had to help Harry. A quick shield spell stopped the Dark Lord from approaching Harry further, and then a centaur jumped over Harry, and charged the Dark Lord, driving him away. The pain finally faded to a dull hum and England got a look at the centaur. This one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harry to his feet.

"Yes - thank you - what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He looked around for a moment – England knew he was looking for him. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He finally looked carefully at Harry, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harry's forehead.

"You are the Potter boy," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time - especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harry could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter boy. The quicker he leaves this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling him?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best, " he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harry had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harry clutching on as best he could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them. England's head was still spinning, and he didn't realize his invisibility spell had faded until Ronan and Bane stood over him.

"What are you doing here, human? You were not with the group when we last met them," Bane asked threateningly.

Ronan, however, was incredibly interested in England. "Bane, this human is not human."

"What? He looks human!"

England got to his feet shakily, head protesting. He bowed to the centaurs. "Thank you, good centaurs, for the work you do in this forest, and for the aid you have given Harry Potter."

Ronan frowned. "Who are you?" he asked gloomily.

England smiled and extended a hand. "Some people call me England, but I have also been called Albion."

The centaurs stiffened in surprise. Bane looked somewhat abashed, and Ronan looked somewhat ecstatic, at least as much as either of them could look it. They both shook his hands, and then bowed. "I must go now, to protect the boy who will keep us all safe."

Bane didn't respond, but Ronan nodded hesitantly and the three parted ways.

England caught up with Harry and Firenze when they ran into Hermione and Hagrid. He had recast his invisibility spell, now that his head was no longer pounding.

"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Harry, hardly knowing what he was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harry slid off his back.

"Good luck, Harry Potter," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harry shivering behind him.

They returned to the castle without incident and England collapsed onto his bed.

* * *

**TADA! Please review. :)  
**

**Also, I think that the centaurs (not these specific centaurs, of course) may have known England personally when he was a kid - Albion, and told stories of the immortal guardian of the land, etc. So, that's why they kinda know who he is, but definitely know the name Albion.**


	13. Chapter 13

**We're finally getting to the interesting part! (the end of the book...:P)**

**DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of this.  
**

**Everyone belongs to who they belong to, I'm just writing for fun.**

* * *

England felt bad for his students. It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. He escaped the exams about the same time that Harry and company did. He followed them out into the courtyard, wanting to talk to them. When he saw them, Harry was rubbing his forehead.

"I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting - it's happened before, but never as often as this."

England paused and listened carefully.

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harry. "I think it's a warning... it means danger's coming..."

Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot.

"Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy. He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."

Harry nodded. England watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth.

Harry suddenly jumped to his feet.

"Where're you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

England hurried after the children.

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut him off.

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off."

He saw the three of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head - that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah... he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after... so I told him... an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon... an' then... I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks... Let's see... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted... but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

England cursed under his breath, once again invisible.

"And did he - did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Well - yeah - how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep -"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey - where're yeh goin'?"

England beat them to the castle, looking for Snape. He told Snape what had happened. Snape looked more irritated than usual. "Damn idiot. Get him drunk, and he'll say anything. I knew that Dumbledore should not have trusted the oaf."

England scowled. "The children are aware of the situation, unfortunately. We need to keep them away from the chamber."

Snape nodded. "I'll take care of it."

He strode out of the room. England hurried to the third corridor, waiting for Quirrell.

* * *

"It's tonight," said Harry, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs, and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"But what can we -"

Hermione gasped. Harry and Ron wheeled round.

Snape was standing there.

"Good afternoon," he said smoothly.

They stared at him.

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.

"We were -" Harry began, without any idea what he was going to say.

"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harry flushed. They turned to go outside, but Snape called them back.

"Be warned, Potter - any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."

He strode off in the direction of the staffroom.

* * *

Snape arrived at the third floor corridor. "It is going to be tonight," he told England. England nodded. "We'll be ready, then." They returned to the staffroom just as Hermione arrived, looking for Flitwick.

England got dinner, then took a post by the Gryffindor dormitories. Snape was going to try and contact Dumbledore. If things were as Snape said they were, Voldemort would never be able to get the stone, as long as the children did not interfere.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione slipped through the hole and England stepped forward to intercept them, when a thought occurred to him. If he could reach Voldemort, he could kill him. So, he followed the children.

At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mrs. Norris skulking near the top.

"Oh, let's kick her, just this once," Ron whispered in Harry's ear, but Harry shook his head. As they climbed carefully around her, Mrs. Norris turned her lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything.

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip.

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them.

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen."

England started to creep around the situation, when Harry started speaking.

"Peeves," he said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible."

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake - I didn't see you - of course I didn't, you're invisible - forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir."

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harry. "Stay away from this place tonight."

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you."

And he scooted off.

"Brilliant, Harry!" whispered Ron.

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor - and the door was already ajar. England slipped inside and noticed the Cerberus. He began to hum. The dog slowly fell asleep. The children didn't seem to hear him.

"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly, "Snape's already got past Fluffy."

Underneath the cloak, Harry turned to the other two.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," he said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now."

"Don't be stupid," said Ron.

"We're coming," said Hermione.

They entered the corridor. They seemed delighted to find the creature sleeping.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."

"It's still asleep, though. Well, here goes..."

They slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"

"No, I don't!"

"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing - just black - there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."

Harry suggested he go first.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes."

England continued humming. Harry climbed over the dog and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom.

He lowered himself through the hole until he was hanging on by his fingertips. Then he looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"See you in a minute, I hope..."

And Harry let go.

"It's okay!" he called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ron followed right away.

"Come on, Hermione!"

Hermione jumped down, followed shortly by England, his humming fading as they landed lightly on the plant.

There was a loud bark from the dog, but they were already safe.

* * *

**DUN..DUN..DUN!  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**HAVING JUST ESCAPED THE THREE-HEADED DOG, FLUFFY...WE FIND OUR HEROES IN A TANGLY PREDICAMENT!**

**haha, anyway, here's the next chapter. It's long again, because breaking it up would be difficult...**

**DISCLAIMER: who it belongs to it who it belongs to, okay? I own nothing, basically, just writing for fun**

* * *

"We must be miles under the school," she said.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ron.

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermione. "Look at you both!"

She leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. She had to struggle because the moment she had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around her ankles. As for Harry and Ron, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing.

England had also fallen prey to the creepers, but he remained calm as he silently willed light into existence. The Devil's Snare cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

The children were confused, but were more concerned about the stone.

"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harry was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon - Norbert had been bad enough...

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harry listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know... sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead - I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once... well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms, and sprinted across the room. He expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at him any second, but nothing happened. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked.

The other two followed him. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermione tried her Alohomora charm.

England pulled out a set of lock-picks. Come on, he brought them everywhere. You never knew when you'd have to break into a locked building. He began to fiddle with the lock and the great door slowly opened. The children didn't notice and he shut and locked the door behind him.

He scowled as he stared at the dark room. He didn't move, because he could sense the motion spells in place.

The children soon stepped into the room, and light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harry, Ron and Hermione shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."

Behind the white pieces they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we - er - have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other two.

"This needs thinking about he said. I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces..."

England scowled.

Harry and Hermione stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess -"

"We're not offended," said Harry quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you stand next to him instead of that castle."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harry, Ron, and Hermione took.

England took his place as the other knight, mounting the horse, after politely asking the knight to lend him the horse. The children didn't notice.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes... look..."

A white pawn had moved forward two squares.

Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them. Harry's knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harry - move diagonally four squares to the right."

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown. England had barely escaped real damage and escaped the rubble, standing off to the side, watching.

"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think let me think..."

The white queen turned her blank face toward him.

"Yes..." said Ron softly, "It's the only way... I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me - that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"

"But -"

"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"

"Ron -"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor - Hermione screamed but stayed on her square - the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left.

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, Harry and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's -?"

"He'll be all right," said Harry, trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's."

They had reached another door.

"All right?" Harry whispered.

"Go on."

Harry pushed it open.

England followed them, after checking that Ron was still alive. He had a slight concussion, but he'd be alright.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."

He pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next - but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped. England had barely made it in.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harry looked over her shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" "Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute."

Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow." England scowled.

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Harry. "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying- key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."

England knew that Harry wouldn't get that lucky twice, but he'd be there.

Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him.

"Hermione!"

"Harry - you're a great wizard, you know."

"I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Harry - be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harry. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermione. She took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" said Harry anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck - take care."

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. He turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," he said, and he drained the little bottle in one gulp.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding his body. He put the bottle down and walked forward; he braced himself, saw the black flames licking his body, but couldn't feel them - for a moment he could see nothing but dark fire - then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

England braced himself for the flames and stepped through, skin and clothes burning, but he ignored the pain and got through.

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**FIREPROOF ENGLAND! Not really, but due to his status as nation, enchanted fire is slightly less effective. Hope you, um, enjoyed, please review. :)  
**


	15. Chapter 15

**OUR HEROES HAVE BRAVED THE TESTS OF THE CHAMBERS! ONLY TWO HAVE MADE IT THROUGH! WHAT THEY FIND...IS SHOCKING! CAN THEY SURVIVE THIS?!**

**New chapter, finally we get to the pivotal moment!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, yada,yada,yada, writing for fun, thank you.**

* * *

England braced himself for the flames and stepped through, skin and clothes burning, but he ignored the pain and got through in time to see Harry identify Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."

"But I thought - Snape -"

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't.

"But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a counter-curse, trying to save you."

"Snape was trying to save me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

England had to sit and watch as he healed from the flames. They had really been quite nasty.

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls - you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror.

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

All Harry could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest -" he blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side..."

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much."

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am weak -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

England scowled. _That's_ what was underneath the damn turban. No wonder being around Quirrell gave him a headache.

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand... is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

He tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around his ankles were too tight: he tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored him. He was still talking to himself. "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

England noticed Harry trying to get access to the mirror. He began to speak a spell to undo the bonds when a voice answered Quirrell. The voice seemed to come from Quirrell himself

"Use the boy... Use the boy..."

Quirrell rounded on Harry.

"Yes - Potter - come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him.

England held his breath. He couldn't attack Quirrell now, without possibly hurting Quirrell. He needed something stronger than the Killing Curse, and it could be...explosive.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. He closed his eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I - I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg.

England noticed the bulge in Harry's pocket and readied his spell.

But Harry hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies... He lies..."

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

England cursed as his head began to pound.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered.

Harry tried to take a step backward but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So he knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward.

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents...They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HIM!" and the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened - he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers - they were blistering before his eyes.

England decided he had had enough. He knew Harry was in trouble. He released his invisibility spell. "Tom Riddle!"

Quirrell and Voldemort turned toward him. "You-" Quirrell said coldly. He cast more ropes around Harry then stalked toward England. England counted his paces.

"KILL HIM!" shrieked Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his wand. England prayed the man was far enough from Harry and cast the spell. It exploded and shattered the columns around the room. It evaporated Voldemort and Quirrell. England stumbled over to Harry who had collapsed. He checked that the boy was still breathing.

He was. England breathed a sigh of relief. He picked up the boy and cast a protective shield around the boy and stepped through the flames. The flames sizzled as they burned his skin and his robes fell even further apart. He cast the spell again and went through the second fire. He found the chessroom to be empty and hurried through the rooms. He was met by Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Hermione. Everyone but Snape looked surprised to see him.

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**DUN DUN DUN! TO BE CONTINUED!  
**

**Please review.**


	16. Chapter 16

**HARRY AND ENGLAND SURVIVED VOLDEMORT'S ATTACK! HURRAY!**

**Here you go, we're almost done.**

**DISCLAIMER**

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_England hurried through the rooms. He __was met by Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Hermione. Everyone but Snape looked surprised to see him._

"Harry!" Hermione cried, rushing to check on Harry.

"He's fine, dear girl. Just been through an ordeal."

She nodded, tears running down her cheeks.

"How is Ron?"

"Fine, fine," she replied, though she looked at him strangely. She didn't have a chance to ask him about his knowledge because Dumbledore asked England a question.

"Is Voldemort dead?"

"For now," England said. "And the Stone was destroyed in the process."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "What were you doing on this excursion?"

"I thought it best to protect the children, since it didn't seem like I could stop them. And, it became a useful opportunity to kill Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded. He looked at Snape. "Did you know about this?"

Snape shrugged.

McGonagall scowled and grabbed Hermione's shoulder and extended a hand toward Harry. "We need to get these children to the Hospital Wing. I suggest we hold this conversation later."

England nodded and followed McGonagall and Hermione out, carrying Harry. Hagrid was playing a flute for Fluffy. The other two professors followed behind them.

They delivered the two children to Madame Pompfrey who put them in bed next to Ron. Then, she noticed England.

"You sit down right now, young man."

"I-"

"Right now. You look like you've been through the stomach of a dragon. Sit down."

Not matter how England assured her that he was perfectly fine, she wouldn't hear of it. So, they continued their conversation while Madame Pompfrey fussed around him.

England was scowling at Dumbledore. "You do realize that the 'challenges' were simple enough to allow _first year students_ to get past them!?" His voice was low and menacing, as he knew Madame Pompfrey would knock him out should he start shouting.

"I knew that the stone would be perfectly safe, even if Mr. Potter and his friends should figure out the situation."

"You _wanted_ them to figure it out!" England hissed. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but they're _children!_ They are not heroes, and you should _realize that!_ Let them be children. You are perfectly capable of stopping the Dark Lord. Don't make Harry do your dirty work."

Dumbledore was quite calm. "But, Arthur, Harry is not a child. He is our savior, and the only one who can truly stop the Dark Lord. I simply want to prepare him."

"_He could have died!_" England hissed.

"But he didn't, and he came out of this, stronger, and more aware of what he was facing, and what he is capable."

"I _helped_ him get through this. Without me, he could have died. All of them could have died!" Madame Pompfrey shushed him.

"You underestimate their abilities, Arthur."

England scowled. "They're _children_. They should be underestimated. They shouldn't have to live up to expectations yet. They're _eleven_."

Madame Pompfrey interrupted by shoving a spoonful of sleeping potion into England's mouth. England silently cursed as he swallowed the potion. It wasn't actually enough to knock him out, but it made him drowsy, and, rather than raise suspicion he closed his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

England woke up in the Hospital Wing and quickly got up to check on Harry. The other two were gone, and Harry was comfortably sleeping. He smiled and stroked the boy's hair. Madame Pompfrey bustled over and shooed him back to his own bed, running some more checks. That was when Dumbledore walked in and sat beside Harry. Soon, Harry woke up.

"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick -"

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? Sir, I -"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.

Harry swallowed and looked around him. England waved at him from behind Madam Pompfrey. Harry smiled back. Next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone-"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. Professor Kirkland was very helpful in preventing that. He saved your life."

"Lucky he was there, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer -"

"Not the Stone, boy, you - the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harry blankly. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling.

For once, England could agree with Dumbledore.

"Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking...sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know- Who -"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. "Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

England scowled. That only confirmed his suspicions that Harry was a Horcrux.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. When he had found his voice again, Harry said, "And the invisibility cloak - do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah - your father happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things... your father used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

England shook his head. The boy was eleven. Yes, it was an heirloom, but Lily would not have let him have it until he was at least a little older. Dumbledore made a terrible parent.

"And there's something else..."

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Snape -"

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Yes, him - Quirrell said he hates me because he hated my father. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Mr. Malfoy. And then, your father did something Snape could never forgive."

"What?"

"He saved his life."

"What?"

"Yes..." said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Snape couldn't bear being in your father's debt... I do believe he worked so hard to protect you this year because he felt that would make him and your father even. Then he could go back to hating your father's memory in peace..."

Harry tried to understand this but it made his head pound, so he stopped.

"And sir, there's one more thing..."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone - find it, but not use it - would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes... Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them - but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

England shook his head and willed Dumbledore to leave.

He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

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**England...does not like Dumbledore...I don't like Dumbledore...alright, we agree there. **

**haha, please review. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**THEY SURVIVED!**  
**Haha, anyway, here we have it, the VERY last chapter**

**Once again, I apologize for the inconsistent chapter lengths.**

**DISCLAIMER**

**Apparently this chapter got completely messed up so I had to repost it. So Sorry. Thanks to LalondesAreDangerous for pointing that out to me.**

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Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice woman, but very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in..."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey..."

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only."

And she let Ron and Hermione in.

"Harry!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around him again, but Harry was glad she held herself in as his head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harry, we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you two?" said Harry.

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermione. "Dumbledore and the teachers had already come down. Ron was taken to the Hospital Wing by one of them, and we went down and met you and Professor Kirkland."

"Professor Kirkland?" Harry asked, but Ron interrupted.

"D'you think he meant you to do it?" said Ron. "Sending you your father's cloak and everything?"

"Well, " Hermione exploded, "if he did - I mean to say that's terrible - you could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," said Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could..."

England scowled, deciding he _definitely _needed to talk to Harry.

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," said Ron proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you - but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" she said firmly.

It was at this point that England finally got a chance to talk to Harry. "Well done, my boy. You and your friends did quite well."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore said you saved me. But, I don't remember you being there? How and when did you get there?"

"I was there the whole time. I played the music that kept Fluffy asleep, I produced the light that drove the Devil's Snare away, and I helped play the chess game."

"What?" Harry looked almost frightened. "How come we didn't notice?"

England smiled. "I'm quite good staying unnoticed. I was also the one that got Quirrell away from you and killed both him and Voldemort."

"You killed Voldemort?"

England nodded. "Only temporarily, I'm afraid. As Dumbledore said, he has many ways of coming back. So, don't let your guard down yet. But, don't worry, I'll be around to help. You don't have to do this alone. You should enjoy your time now, without worrying about evil wizards."

Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor."

England smiled. "Thank _you_, Harry."

Madame Pompfrey hustled England out, declaring him well, and he left Harry confused and pensive.

The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table. England sighed, slouching in his chair, in a new pair of robes.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little.

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes...

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

England snorted. The man was insufferable. He didn't mine Gryffindor winning, of course, but Dumbledore was just awful.

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves - they were a hundred points up. "Third - to Mr. Harry Potter..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point.

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood up to yell and cheer as Neville, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging him. He had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. England was cheering with everyone else, and caught Harry's eye. He smiled and Harry beamed back.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. England joined them, needing to return to his life as a nation.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "both of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to." People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together. "There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

England watched from a distance, smiling.

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed. "Look, Mom! I can see

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.

"Busy year?" she said.

"Very," said Harry. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Harry's uncle,Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," said Vernon. "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day." He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron and Hermione. England followed Vernon Dursley. "Good, sir, may I have a moment of your time?"

"Who are you, then?" Vernon asked with a scowl. England was glad he was wearing his suit. He pulled out his wallet and showed him his psychic paper – currently displaying a card for NSPCC. Vernon stiffened.

"You are Mr. Vernon Dursley, yes?"

"Yes, sir. How can I help you?" Vernon said politely.

"We've received reports concerning your treatment of your nephew, over whom you have guardianship."

"What sort of reports?"

"Neglect and abuse."

"Ah, of course. Well, that's just plain untrue. We are very happy. See? Harry!"

Harry had finished his conversation and joined them. He looked shocked to see England, but England winked at him and Harry kept his mouth shut.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Tell the nice man that we've taken care of you since you arrived on our doorstep."

Harry hesitated. He wanted to out Vernon, but he also didn't want to end up in some foster home. "Everything is great," he said finally.

England narrowed his eyes, then nodded. "Let's hope it stays that way. I'll be checking back, to make sure everything is in proper form. Thank you for your time."

He smiled at Harry then strolled away. Uncle Vernon hurriedly got everything into the car and drove away.

England visited twice over the summer, bringing letters that he had found in the possession of a house elf who was lurking near the entrance of Privet Drive. He had tea with Harry, and found that, indeed, the Dursleys were treating Harry much better. Both because they feared Harry, and they feared England. It had been a good summer.

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_**Haha, Dursleys take that!**_

_**So...I hate to leave you all waiting, but I will be. I have no motivation/inspiration to write further, so...sorry. I know that there are a lot of other ones (better ones) that have England doing stuff in the next books. Go read those...sorry to disappoint you.**_


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